Rum or Whisky?
by Lakritzwolf
Summary: Contemporary: Jack Sparrow is swept ashore in modern day Scotland and confronted with everything that goes with it... people, technology, whisky and... spagetthi. Now complete. I think.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, sadly enough.

Note: Contemporary. Reviews encouraged!

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It was last summer when I finally made my dream come true. And beside that, it was a pretty eventful summer, too. But I'll get to that.

I had a dream, and made it come true. Through hard work, I had saved up enough money to take a year off work, buy myself a Defender and cruise up the westcoast of Scotland for as long as I liked. Setting off from Glasgow, I put on my sunglasses and was on my way.

Admittedly, the landrover (I called it Landy) I sat in was a little worse for wear, but who cares? Me and my Landy, just the two of us. My sleeping bag in the back, all sorts of camping stuff in the boot, and a well padded bank account beckoned, and I made my way up north on small and narrow tracks, heading for Ullapool.

For the first three weeks, all was brilliant. I stayed wherever I liked, made walks, hikes, looked at the landscape and took incredible amounts of pictures. And then, one day, as I was scrambling down a patch of rocky coast, watching the atlantic, something happened that no one will ever believe me.

I sat on a rock, watching the waves breack on the rocks below me, and watched waves splashing high through a gully some ten feet below me. I tasted salt on my lips and thought me the happiest woman on earth. If only…

If only. I snorted at my own thinking. If only Marc and I hadn't split up. Well, there was nothing to do about that. He had never thought this dream worth dreaming. And now, since we didn't marry after all, I just thought, now or never, and had done it. Maybe it was even better. I wasn't sure that with him, I would enjoy this as much.

Still watching the waves, I realised that something was wrong, but couldn't put my finger on it. I looked around, then before me, and saw that the waves, receding with the outgoing tide, had washed something out of the gully that was now lying on the smooth rocks beside it.

I looked, and looked again. Then curiosity took over, and I climbed down the rocky cliff, cragged and rough and as easily mounted like a flight of stairs.

It was a hat.  
A hat?

I picked it up and looked at it. A hat. A tricorne. A black tricorne, made of leather. A hat.

A sailors hat, I thought, but there was no ship in sight. A fairly old-fashioned hat, to be honest. I sat down and let my legs dangle down. „And how long have you been drifting on the ocean before you reached this rocky shore?" I murmured, turning the hat in my hands. Then something else caught my attention, down below me.

„Holy shit…" I dropped the hat and shook myself. There was a body floating in the water.  
„Fucking hell", I murmured, and the reader may forgive me my language, but I was really surprised and upset. Slowly I got down on my belly and reached for the body, grabbed an arm, and another arm and was able to pull him, for a man it was, over the edge onto the rocks beside me, where I turned him around.

He was unconscious, and as I looked at him, I felt as if someone, somewhere, had pulled a bad joke on me. Was there a hidden camera somewhere here? That man before me looked like a pirate. To be precise, he looked like a certain pirate I knew from the cinema.

„What the hell is that supposed to mean", I murmured as I checked him for signs of life. He was breathing, if shallow, and I leaned back and looked again.  
A man, dressed as a pirate, as a movie character, washed ashore on the west coast of northern Scotland? And with no ship in sight? He had to have fallen of the cliff, into the gully.

He moved and groaned softly. Suddenly I was aware of how little I knew about first aid and remembered that my mobile was in the car, to avoid it getting wet I had left it there. And the car was a good three miles walk away.

He was waking up. His eyelids fluttered, and he moved his head this way and that. Then he opened his eyes and looked around. He saw me, and although he was pretty pale already, he paled even more.

„Who are you?", he said. „Where am I?"

I took a closer look at him. Why in the name of all that's holy he was dressed up like this, down to the trinkets braided into the dreadlocks, was anyone's guess, but he didn't act like a madman. Not yet, at least.  
„Westcoast of Scotland", I said. „More or less east of Oban."  
„Oban? Scot… Scotland?"  
He tried to prop himself up on his elbows and winced. „Wha… Scotland?"  
„Yes", I said, watching his eyes grow wide and wider.

„How did I get here?", he asked after a while, and looked at me again. I shrugged. „I don't know. I just fished you out of the gully there."  
He stared at me, and suddely, his stare grew very intense. He narrowed his brows. „Who are you?", he asked again. „And why do you try to make me believe I had drifted, unconsciously, across the whole atlantic ocean?"

"Across the ocean? Don't be silly", I said. „I'm Frances."  
„Across the ocean. Far be it from me to be silly, but…" He looked past me towards the shoreline and wrinkled his forehead. „But the last thing I remember is diving into that cave in the White Shark's Bay on the Isla de Muerta."  
„Where?" I stared at him, and he stared at me.

„Muerta?" he said. „A little island between Jamaica and…"  
„Jamaica?" I sat back on my heels. „You're taking me in, mate. Who are you, and why have you fallen into that gully? Have you smoked some kind of weed and thought you're a pirate?"

He gave me a look that could only be described as hurt pride. „I happen to be a pirate", he said. „And I am not into the habit of tobacco."  
"I wasn't talking about tobacco", I said. „But never mind." Looking at him, I had to admit he certainly looked the part. Pirate, my ass, I thought. Some kind of hippie on bad acid. Or something. He sat up and groaned, covering his face in his hands. I was a little worried and leaned forward.

„Are you allright?", I asked cautiously, and he flashed me a grin that was more a baring of his teeth than something else. And it was a little glittery, due to a collection of gold teeth. I blinked.  
„Allright", he said, „Is open to definiton, darling. I've escaped the navy, but I've a pistol ball in me leg and are talking to a woman in men's clothing who's trying to tell me I have surfaced in Scotland."

„Well, you have", I said, then the first part of the sentence reached me. „Pistol ball?"  
He grinned sweetly, then threw back his head, squinted heavenwards and held up his hands out, palms open, as if to summon the heavens as wittness to my stupidity.  
„A pistol ball", he repeated, looking at me again and dropping his hands. „In me leg."

„Well", I said, „I suppose I could call 999, but I have to get to the Landy first to get my phone." He stared at me, and I swear, he looked at me as if that had made as much sense to him as if I had talked in scots to a Londoner.

He blinked, blinked again, and then asked: „What?"  
„My phone"; I said slowly, „Is in the landrover."  
„Land…?"  
„My car."  
„Car…?"

„Oh my god", I said. „What are you? Some kind of eco-weirdo forswearing all technology? My car. Like, with engine, and seats, and all that."  
He blinked again. „I thank ye not to insult me by calling me things I don't understand", he said in a low voice, yet seemed more vexed and confused than upset. He took a deep breath.

„Could we, maybe, come back to the problem of the ball in me leg?", he asked. „I'd like to get rid of it."  
„As well you might", I said and looked around. „I don't know much about these things, so I think I'd be best if I get the car here and call an ambulance, then we could meet up…"  
I interrupted myself at his helpless, empty stare. He really did not seem to know what I was talking about.

I stared at him, and he stared at me, and then, after a while, he said in a small voice: „Where am I? I must be dreaming. Or is it that I have lost my mind? Or maybe… maybe you have lost yours?"  
I pursed my lips. „I wouldn't know", I said carefully, trying to make some kind of sense out of this ridiculous situation. „Let's just assume, for the sake of argument…"  
„Of course", he said. „Just for the sake of argument." It sounded a bit sarcastic.

„For the sake of argument"; I went on, „That you have, indeed, dived into a cave on some island in the carribbean. And due to some… magical, my god, how silly is that, magical swirl, have surfaced somewhere at the scottish westcoast."

„Let's assume that", he said.  
„Okay." I took another breath. „So you are from the caribbean. For the sake of argument."  
„Solely for the sake of argument." He almost spat the words at me.  
"And you say you're a pirate."  
„I happen to be one."  
„Right." I said. He looked indignified at the fact I didn't believe him. He must be pretty far out on his acid, I thought.

„So you're a pirate from the caribbean, diving into a cave on some coast of some island in the caribbean, fleeing from the navy, and surface here in Scotland."  
"Seems to me what has happened", he said. He looked still pale, and I felt it. I was stil trying to make sense out of this, and without getting myself in danger. Who knows what this kind of weirdo could be up to? To cover my growing sense of dread, I took a deep breath and tried to be casual. „So, what's your name, then?", I asked, and he slowly looked up from his hands.

„I", he said with as much dignity he could muster, „am Captain Jack Sparrow."

I couldn't help it. I had to laugh. I burst out laughing, holding my belly, with my whole body shaking. What a weirdo! Watching too much tellie AND smoking bad weeds. So I had fished a weirdo out of the water who thought he was a character of a movie. Unbelievable.

„So you are trying to tell me there's still pirates in the caribbean, fighting the navy", I said. „And you're Captain Jack Sparrow."  
„Still? What do you mean, still? And yes, I am…"  
„I mean", I said, trying not to loose my patience, „That pirates are an element of movies and books. There are no pirates any more."  
„Where I come from", he said pointedly, „You can be sure of meeting them sooner or later. What's a movie?"

„Right", I said ignoring his question. „And next you're telling me that you were born in the year of our Lord 1675. Yes?"  
„No", he said, and I lifted my brows. „In fact, it was 1638."  
I blinked. He blinked. I blinked again. „And you expect me to believe that bullshit?", I said and he took another breath. „In fact I do", he said. „Since it is nothing but the truth, mylady."

„Okay", I said. „So you're from the 17th century. So you're a pirate captain. Well, welcome to the year 2006."  
He blinked. „What?"  
„2006. That's the year. You have arrived in the year of your Lord two thousand and six."  
„I haven't."  
"You have."  
He stared at me for at least a minute. In complete silence, his face growing paler and paler.

„I haven't", he said at last, and slowly, I began to feel nervous. I do read books. Fantasy books. Science Fiction. Timetravel is a favourite topic of these authors.  
_But that is in books! That doesn't happen to normal people like me!! _And besides, Jack Sparrow was a fictional character! He hadn't even been alive!

I stared at him, and he at me. Have you ever wished that, for once, something exciting, like something out of a movie, might happen to your boring self to brighten up your boring life? Well, here I sat, with a man claiming to be Captain Jack Sparrow. On the west coast of Scotland. In 2006. Sober.

That wasn't really happening, was it? And yet, here he sat. And stared at me. And while I had to admit, earlier, that his costume was pretty authentic, I now had to admit that it was almost a little too authentic. He looked real, damnit!

For quite a while we both crouched there on the rock, staring at nothing, saying nothing, while both our brains obviously tried to get to grips with something that was beyond our ability to comprehend. Well, it was certainly the case for me, and if what he said was true, it was for him.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he looked at me again. „I am unconscious, and this is a dream, right?"  
I shrugged. „I feel quite awake, actually."  
„I feared as much", he said, and fainted.  
„Shit", I muttered, and moved closer to him. I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine when I checked his legs and saw that there was, indeed, a hole with singed edges in the left trouser leg. A bullet hole?

My hands were trembling madly as I got my penknife out of my pocket. Slowly, I slit the seam, careful as not to cut his flesh, and flapped the fabric open. A hole. A bullet hole.

I swallowed. If there was only the slightest bit of truth to this story, I could neither call an ambulance nor the police. We would both end up in a closed section of one mental ward or another. Or in jail. Probably both, only in reversed order.

„You've to cut the hole open and pry the ball out", he murmured weakly, and I looked up at him. He had lifted his head and was looking at me.  
I swallowed. „I've never done this", I said. „And this won't do. We have to get you somewhere safer. Somewhere on solid land, not perched on a bit of craggy rock."  
"Agreed", he said. „Help me up. And don't forget me hat."

Shaking my head, I picked up the hat and helped him up. Swearing and cursing and muttering under his breath, I managed to get him up the rocks, his arm draped across my shoulders, I holding on to his hand with one hand and his hip with the other.

„Right", I said, dropping him as we had reached the flat land above the cliffs. „This is as far as you have to go. Stay here, I'll get the car. There's a first aid box in it."  
He gave me a funny look. „I won't ask", he murmured, and I tried to smile encouraginly before I set off. „It might be a little while", I said. It's about three miles a walk there."  
„I'll not go anywhere", he said.

x x x x x x x x

I set off in a brisk pace and tried to shake off the feeling that this wasn't really happening.

A fictional character, swept onto the shore here, through realities and time, and at a time and place where me, of all people, would find him?  
Maybe someone had slipped something into my drink last night?

In a pub in a tiny town consisting of three houses and aforementioned pub?

Was I going mad?  
Had maybe _I_ watched to much television?

On and on my thoughts went, back and forth, but I came to no satisfying conclusion. It was almost dark when I reached the car, and with a sigh, I slumped into the seat, realising I was seriously tempted just to drive off and pretend the whole thing hadn't happened.

But it had. Hadn't it? I had touched him. You can't touch dreams. So whoever, or whatever, he was… and even if it was true… which it wasn't because it couldn't be, but even…

„Still", I interrupted my circle of thoughts. „There is a wounded man waiting for me to help him." _Yea, and he's Captain Jack Sparrow. There's gonna be a nice straight jacket waiting for you, Frances me lass._


	2. Chapter 2

Insert standard disclaimer here.

Is it an imposer? Is it real? Am I going mad? Am I already mad for making all this up?

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It was dark when I reached the spot where I had left him, but the headlights of my Landy shone into empty landscape. I let out a long breath of relief. So it had all been my imagination, hadn't it? I turned off the engine, switched off the lights but left the parking light on and got out of the car.

Silly, silly girl, I tought. But still, a nagging feeling deep down in my belly told me that it wasn't as easy. I sighed.  
„Jack?"  
Nothing. _Of course, nothing!  
_„Jack!"

Nothing. I breathed in relief and turned, but then I heard it. Below the crag in the landscape where the cliff was. A scraping sound. I slowly turned again and saw, in the dim glow of the Landy's parking light, a head peeking above the edge.

Well, so much for sanity. „Jack? It's me, Frances. And my Landy."  
I heard him grunt as he pulled himself atop the edge. „I saw some fiery, bright lights…", he muttered, and I took another breath.  
„That would have been my car."  
„Ah."  
„Jack"; I said, still feeling silly, using that name. „I'm going to switch the lights back on, I need more light."

There was no sound, but I thought I saw him nod in the dim light. I opened the door and reached for the light switch, and the headlights of the landrover flooded the landscape in bright yellow. I saw Jack, or the man who called himself Jack, flinch and cover his eyes.

Rummaging in the boot, I still thought how silly that whole business was, but when I walked back to where I had seen him standing, first aid box under my arm, I felt not so silly any more.

This was happening. It really seemed to be happening.

„So this is…", he began lamely and pointed at my landrover.  
"A car", I finished for him. „Yes. It's an engine, with wheels and gears and levers, a bit like a steam engine."  
„Steam engine?"  
I blinked. My knowledge is a bit thin regarding these things. Had James Watt even been born at his time?  
I looked at the box. And how come I had used that term? His time. Did I really believe that nonsense? Then I shrugged and told him to lie down. I seemed to be. Deary me.

I knelt down beside him, examining the leg again in the shine of the headlights. „You've to cut like this", he informed me. „Then squeeze the ball out."  
I swallowed. But then, a doctor would do nothing else. Only he would use a scalpell instead of a pen knife. And anaesthethics, for that matter.  
„What are you waiting for?", he asked me. „Do I have to do it myself?"  
„I haven't done this before", I said. „Just let me…"

What? Think? There was nothing to think. Just do it, I thought. I checked the blade of my knife. I like keeping my tools, if it is tools in the shed or kitchen, in good condition, and I hate blunt knifes. So my penknife was probably not as good as a scalpell, but it was definitely sharp. I took a deep breath.

„Ready?", I asked, and he snorted. „As ready as one can be, sweetheart."  
I gritted my teeth and pressed the blade into his flesh. Only then I realised I had no idea how deep I would have to cut. I might have cut to shallow, and do it again. And there was a lot of blood, as well, I couldn't see a thing. But still gritting my teeth, I made the cut, downwards, across the hole, and followed his instructions, grunted through gritted teeth.

I squeezed, and the ball suddenly popped out of the wound. Taking another deep breath, I picked it up and had a look. No, not a bullet. Definitely not a bullet. A ball. A ball of lead.  
I shuddered. A ball. Not a bullet. A ball, fired from a seventeenth-century pistol.

The gash was bleeding heavily, and something from my last first-aid course surfaced. Compression bandage. I applied a bandage, staunching the bleeding effectively, and sighed in relief. Now that had been almost too easy.

What next? It was late evening, and even if it was summer, I was sure I couldn't just leave him and let him sleep on the ground. I would have to get him back to the cottage. A holiday cottage, that is. I had borrowed it from a friend for a week to explore the area.

With a lot of effort and grunting and swearing, I got Jack in the car and turned on the engine. He stared onwards, hands folded across his lap, and seemed absolutely petrified.

„Afraid?", I asked.  
„No", he said.  
„Right", I said with a smile. „Nothing to be afraid of. It's just a car, after all. A mechanical thing. Not a monster."  
„Of course it is", he said, but it didn't sound very convinced. Or convincing. I smiled secretly and shook my head.

We reached my cottage half an hour later. I helped Jack out of the car, and he was even paler than before. Once inside, I helped him sit down on the sofa and put on the lamps.The cottage was rather old-fashioned, more a bothy than a modern holiday home. It had electricity and running water, but also a fireplace, no insulation, a thatched roof and shutters instead of curtains or blinds in front of the windows.

I could have switched on the lights, but chose not to. He seemed confused enough as it was. And I seemed to have to accept the fact that I was dealing with a pirate from the seventeenth century. Who was the mad hatter, then? The one making up such horrendous bullshit, or the one to believe it? But I had to smile, nonetheless. Maybe it's just the way humans cope with situations like these.

„Want a drink?", I asked, and he looked up with a little more life in his eyes. „I need a drink", he said simply, and I nodded. So did I.

So I went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of scotch. I thought about going into the kitchen and getting two glasses, but with a glance at the bottle, shrugged and sat down beside him. It was a blend, nothing special, and while good, you could drink it was well from the bottle. I uncorked it, sniffed, smiled and took a swig, then handed the bottle to Jack.

He sniffed it as well and then made a face. „What the hell is that?", he asked, giving me a indignified look. „It smells like…"  
"Scotch", I said. „It's not the best stuff there is, but it isn't bad."

He sniffed again and cautiously took a sip. Then he slowly tilted his head, smacked his lips and took another, more generous swig.  
„Not too bad", he mumbled, handing the bottle back to me.  
„I can probably buy better stuff tomorrow or the day after", I said, taking a swig myself.

Silently, we passed the bottle back and forth for a while until finally, after about an hour, Jack looked at me again and swallowed.  
„I still have the feeling this is a bad dream", he said. „I am supposed to have travelled thousands of miles and hundreds of years by just diving into a cave… If anyone ever told me something like this, I'd have him walk the plank."  
I shrugged. „I don't find it particularly believable, neither", I said. „I'm still waiting for you to admit you made the whole shit up."

„You have a strong language for a lady, that much is sure", he remarked dryly, but with a glint in his eyes. I shrugged with a grin and took another sip before giving him the bottle. Then he stretched out his legs, winced, shifted his weight and looked around him.  
„Tell me", he began and took another swig. „Tell me what happened to the pirates."

„Uh…", I said, leaning back and crossing my arms at the back of my head. „They're all gone. Well… Not completely. But pirates as you would know them are gone. I suppose those who didn't die violently at the hands of soldiers just died out."

He raised his eyebrows. „Like I know them? So there are pirates still?"  
I weighed my head. „Not, as I said, like you know them. They are a dangerous lot, dishonourable, cold-blooded…" I broke off as I saw him grin. Of course he wouldn't know the difference. I straightened up again and tried to explain about organised crime, criminal organisations and all that came with it. It took me the better part of an hour.

„And believe me, compared to these people, pirates like you seem like a distinguished club of honourable gentlemen", I ended, and he gave me a quizzical look under raised eyebrows, but didn't question it. „I see", was all he said.  
„I'm sorry, but time hasn't been nice to romantic ideals." I gave him the bottle back and he took a generous gulp. „No, it doesn't seem like."; he sighed and looked at me.

"Why do you wear men's clothes?", he asked me, and I smiled. „Because I want to."  
"And that is enough?" He wrinkled his brow.  
„Today, it is."  
„And you travel the lands alone, without a husband or any other male companion in your… your…"  
„Car"; I interjected helpfully, slightly amused.  
„Car", he repeated, „alone, and… remain unmolested?"  
I shrugged. „I do what I want. Mostly. But I certainly don't need the protection of any man."  
„Not?"  
„Nope."

„And nobody will object to you sharing a house with a man like me?"  
Was he grinning? He was. „Nope", I said.  
„So what about your precious honour?", he asked, and I snorted. „The concept of honour, especially the kind of honour you're referring to right now, does not exist any more."

„It doesn't?" He looked at me with wide eyes. „But how…"  
"Let it rest, Jack", I said. „I don't think you can truly grasp the concept of equality of genders. Some men nowadays can't, even."  
„Equality of genders?", he said. „Ridiculous."  
"Well, I don't blame you, you're not from around."  
"Indeed I am not", he said. „What a world." He snorted and took another swig. The whisky level in the bottle was nearing a dangerous level. It was reaching zero.

„So men don't protect their women any more, and women don't care for their men", he said, as if to himself, but I answered nontheless. „No. Everyone protects and cares for themselves."  
He shot me a long, thoughtful glance.  
„What a sorry existence", he said, and emptied the bottle. I raised my brows, but didn't know what to say. I doubted that our points of view would reach any kind of agreement.

We sat in silence for a while, staring at nothing. My thoughts began to wander. I still quite couldn't believe what was happening. But here he was, sitting next to me. Looking, talking, and yes, smelling like a man from the seventeenth century. Not that he stank. He just… smelled. More of himself like anything else, but that quite strongly.

Male. That was it. He smelled male. Decidedly male. It's probably when you're so used to people smelling of nothing, or of shower gel and perfume, of deodorant and hairspray, that you initially think a person's own smell is something unpleasant. But somehow, his smell, if strong, wasn't unpleasant. It was just… unusual. For me, that is. If you'd have told him he smelled, he probably wouldn't even have understood it.

And in my slightly alcohol-induced haziness, I realised that this smell, this male smell, made him decidedly more attractive. Attractive? I shifted my weight. Careful. Keep those hormones in check.

I suddenly realised I had been staring at him. And he at me. But he didn't smirk, not even smile. He looked at me, and then, slowly, pursed his lips as if in thought. I tilted my head, and he took a breath.

„Frances", he said in a low voice. „How am I supposed to get back?"  
I was taken aback. That hadn't even crossed my mind yet, and I could only shrug. „I guess… I thought the best guess was to try the way you came", I said cautiously, and he tried to grin. It remained an unsuccesful attempt.  
„Maybe", he said.

I couldn't stifle a yawn. „Tell you what", I said. „We'll go to bed and have a sleep, and tomorrow, rested and sobered up a little, we have a think about it."  
He actually grinned at me with a glint in his eyes. „Considering this situation", he said, „I'd daresay sobriety is not what will get us anywhere."

I chuckled. „Probably not. But we have to wait until tomorrow, anyway, because I don't have anything more to drink."  
"Shame."  
I got up and rummaged around in the wickerwork chest behind the sofa. „There's blankets here and even a pillow or two." I straightened up again. „Make yourself comfortable."

I went to the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Only when I sank down in my bed realisation sank into me that I was believing this story. That this was happening. That…

I grimaced and pulled the blanket over my head. That I was spending the night under the same roof as Captain Jack Sparrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Insert standard disclaimer here.

It is happening. And what happens if you need backup clothes but the only stuff you can borrow is owned by a scotsman?

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I woke up the next morning with a slight feeling of disorientation. I felt still drunk. Right. Whisky. I had been drinking whisky with… I shot up in my bed.

I hadn't. Had I?

I blinked, rubbed my hands across my face and got up. This was ridiculous. What a dream. I shuffled out of mybedroom to the kitchen, where coffee was beckoning, and passed the sofa without a second glance. Needless to say, I froze in midmove when a snore came from the direction of said sofa.

I slowly turned.

Still fast asleep, he had just stretched out on the sofa, not bothering with neither pillow nor blanket. One arm lay across his face, and from under there, a sonore, slow snoring was heard. I swallowed. Oh my god, it wasn't a dream.

Feeling rather shaky, I tiptoed my way into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Coffee. I needed some serious coffee. But as I opened the cupboard, I automatically took two mugs out. I put them down and realised what I was doing, but then shrugged. I bet he can use a coffee as well.

The kettle switched itself off with a loud clack, and I poured the water into the mugs, stirred the coffee and inhaled the smell. I picked up the mugs, turned, and almost dropped them again. He was standing in the doorway with a smirk. How long had he been there? I hadn't even heard him move.  
"Good morning", I sad a little weakly. „How's your leg?"  
Waving this aside with a move of his hand, he folded his arms and leaned against the doorway.  
„Care for a cup of coffee?", I asked, feeling the need to break the silence.

He lifted one brow. „Coffee?", he asked. „Can't say I've ever tried it." Why did he look at me that way? I handed him the mug and he took it with a grin. And then it dawned on me. I was still in my sleeping outfit, a t-shirt and my undies. Not much, enough for me, but for a man like him, I was probably practically naked.

Realising this, I took a breath and tried not to look embarrassed. I smiled and blew into my mug, leaning against the table.  
"Tell me", he said as if reading my thoughts and leaned against the doorframe. „Don't you feel at least a little bit embarrasased standing in front of a man with… so improper clothing?"

I shrugged. „No", I lied. I hadn't, before. Suddenly, with him looking me like that, I did. But I was determined not to show it. „You'd be surprised if you'd walk along a street in any larger city on a hot summer's day. You'd probably go blind."

„Would I?", he asked me and inhaled the steam coming from the mug. He made a face and looked at the contents. „That is coffee?", he asked, and I took a sip of mine and nodded.  
We stood in silence for a while, and then he tried a sip of his. He instantly made a face and rolled up his upper lip. „It's bitter"; he remarked.

"Yes", I agreed. „But it grows on you. I for my part can't live without coffee."  
"I think I can", he murmured and put his cup down. I grinned, took another sip, and walked past him to flee into the sanctity of my bedroom. His look was making me nervous, and I felt the need to get several layers of clothing between me and that look.

I half expected him to do somehting rude, like patting my bum, but he didn't do anything. I'm pretty sure, however, that he smirked. I could practically hear him smirk. I let out a long breath as I closed the bedroom door behind me and made a mental note to dress, in future, before leaving the bedroom.

I needed another coffee. I made my way back into the kitchen, and when I came back into the living room with my mug, saw Jack sitting on the sofa contemplating the large rip in his trousers.

„Sorry, Jack", I said, and he looked up with a dismissive wave of his hand. „I wonder", he said with a tilt of his head, „If women in this… time… (it did seem to cost him a serious amount of effort to use that term) still know how to sew?"

I had to grin. „Most don't", I said. „At least, in this part of the world. They buy everything, and it is made in another part of the world ."  
He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. „I can. Do you want me to mend that?"  
„If you wouldn't mind", he said, fluttering his eyelids at me.

I shook my head with a grin. „I don't", I said, and went to find my little box of neccessities that I always took with me when travelling. In it where needles and thread in several colours, some pins, safety pins and spare buttons. „Hand them over", I said as I came back into the living room, and Jack raised his brows. „Just like that?", he said.

„How else?", I gave back. „Do you want me to mend them while you still have them on?"  
„Do you expect me to sit here without my breeches on in front of a woman?"  
I crossed my arms, feeling slightly amused. „I am sure there's a lot of ladies that have seen you with a lot less on", I said and he seemed to wind himself.  
"That's as it may be"; he murmured. „That's something completely different."  
"I fail to see the difference", I said, enjoying to see him like that. It was almost hilarious.

He crossed his arms and seemed to be sulking. I sighed. „Jack", I said. „I am sure there's nothing I haven't seen before…"  
He gave me a hurt and dissaproving look. Or was it? There was this glint in his eyes, and then one corner of his mouth twitched.

I grinned. „I would lend you one of mine", I said, „But I doubt they'd fit you. But I will have a look into Paul's cupboard if there's anything you could borrow."  
"Paul?" He leaned forward.  
„He's a friend. The house is his. I borrowed it from him for a time."  
„Ah." He leaned back again, looking relieved. I smiled inwardly and went back into the bedroom, heading for the cupboard.

I rummaged through it and found several t-shirts, shorts, socks and two jumpers. And when I lifted those, I had to grin. It could have been a mischievious grin. I almost laughed.

x x x x x x x x

„No", said Jack.  
„Why not?", I asked, trying to surpress my laughter.  
„It is…" he began, staring down at himself. „This is…"  
„What? It looks good on you."  
„It is…", Jack began again, faltering.  
„Brilliant", I said. „Suits you. Blue and green."

„This is a skirt!" He almost screamed at me and I had to giggle.  
„No. It is a kilt."  
„What's the difference?", he said, crossing his arms.  
„Well", I said. „It's an item of a man's wardrobe, for one. A scotsman wears a kilt proudly as part of his cultural identity."  
„So what", he mumbled. And added somewhat louder: „But I am no… scotsman, darling."  
„No", I said. „But it is not a skirt. It's a kilt. It's very male. In this country."  
„Is it", Jack said weakly. „I think it's a bit draughty."  
I bit my tongue to refrain from laughing.

„And the men here wear this… all year round?"  
„Well, in earlier times they certainly did. Mostly, nowadays, I'd say it is a bit of a statement. But some men certainly do."  
He shuddered and looked down at himself again. „I'd thank you for hurrying up with the mending of me breeches", said and carefully sat down.

I sat down beside him and threaded my needle. „You know", I said conversationally, „A scotsman told me once that… what was it, yes, if asked if it was true that a scotsman wears nothing under his kilt, he would reply that the lowlander wears indeed nothing under his kilt. The highlander wears his manhood."

He shot me a very long look, as if trying to remain dignified. I still tried not to laugh.  
"What's the diference?", he asked and I gulped for air.  
„It's two different areas of Scotland", I managed to say. He raised his brows.  
„I see", he said. „Some kind of rivalry, I suspect."  
"Indeed."

He looked down at himself again. „So this is something male?", he asked again with a calculating look into my direction and I nodded.  
„Decidedly", I said. „And a lot of women think men in kilts are sexy."  
He stared at me and then crossed his arms. „What?"  
„Attractive", I said. „Very attractive."

He narrowed his brows. „Is that so", he murmured and flashed me a grin. „Frances, my luv", he said, „I'd thank ye very much to hurry up a lot with the mending of me breeches."

I sniggered and straightened the fabric on my thigh.


	4. Chapter 4

Insert standard disclaimer here.

Pirating Tesco's. Or trying not to. and trying not to do other things. And failing.

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„There you go", I said after a bit more than half an hour. I handed him his trousers back and went into the kitchen to make myself another coffee. As I switched the kettle on, I realised that we hadn't even have breakfast yet. I opened some random cupboards, but there was not really much in there, just some toast. I had planned to go shopping today. Well. Then I took my mug and thought: And why not? It's not as if he's invalid or something.

I came back intot he living room with two slices of toast.  
"Breakfast?", I said, offering him the plate. „Sorry, I hadn't had time to shop yet."

I sat down on the sofa as he took the plate with a nod. He looked much more composed with his trousers on, and I couldn't surpress a grin. He saw that and raised one eyebrow, but again, he had that glint in his eyes.

„Tell me about this world", he suddenly said, leaning back and crossing his legs. I looked at him over the rim of my mug.  
"What exactly do you want to know?"  
He shrugged. „What happened in the last couple of hundred years?"  
"Uh." I leaned back as well. „How much time do you have?"

„Since I do not plan to dive down that gully yet", he said, „I have a lot of time."  
I gave him another look. „Is it the leg? How bad is it?"  
He dismissed my concern with another flick of his hand. „It'll do."  
„Let me have a look. Just to make sure it doesn't go septic…"  
I did it again. He raised one eyebrow and clearly didn't know what I was on about. What do people in the books say…? Ah yes.  
„It doesn't start festering", I said, and he shot me a long glance under half closed eyelids.  
„You could've thought of that before I dressed again, luv."

„Does it hurt?", I said, feeling slightly unnerved by his stare. He smiled sweetly, a sarcastic gleam in his eyes. „Hardly", he said. „The ball's gone, after all."  
„Right." I put my mug down. He didn't seem to wish to dvelwe on that topic. „I think I have to go shopping. Do you fancy anything?"  
He stood up and spread his hands. „I do", he said. „I fancy coming along to have a look at this world of yours."

I bit my lower lip, considering. „It's not that I mind", I finally said. „But I think a supermarket somewhere in the west of Scotland is not very representative."  
He shrugged. „It's a start".  
„Okay", I said. „But I'm afraid you can't really go like this."  
He looked down at himself. „And what's wrong with me countenance, pray?"

I pursed my lips. „Not much. But to be honest, I don't want to catch too much attention. Just… dress down a little."  
„Dress down?"  
„I'll get you some of Paul's stuff", I said and went to get a t-shirt.

Having put this on, he looked almost like any other dreadlocked hippie or raggae singer, and the boots actually enhanced that picture. Taking the headscarf off and using it to tie the hair back into a tail made im almost inconspicious. Maybe not in western Scotland. But almost anywhere else.

„And you are saying that like this", he spread out his arms and bend a little in the knees, „I won't catch attention?"  
„Not much", I said. „Believe me. Let's go. Are you okay?" He was still walking with a limp, but he waved my concerns aside.

He eyed the landrover with a healthy portion of sceptisism, and I waved him over, opening the engine bonnett. „Have a look", I said. „It's all mechanical, see…"  
He peeked over my shoulder. „All gears and cogwheels and levers and pipes", I said. „Almost a bit like… like a watch! Only a little more complicated."

He gingerly extended one finger to touch the ignition distributor. I smiled and closed the bonnett again. „Nothing to it", I said, sitting down. He sat down beside me and looked around.

His look passed me and then slowly came back to me, turning into a stare. „What?, I said, then realised. „Oh, the sunglasses. Protection against the sun."  
He tilted his head, I flashed him a grin and started the engine. „Full speed ahead"; I said and he leaned back into the seat.

The sun was still standing low, so I put down the sun screen to shield my eyes. Seeing this, he did the same, and a small object that had been tugged behind it fell down. He picked it up, examining it. „What's that?", I asked and he looked at me again. „A pair of these… sun-glasses."  
„Oh. Didn't know they were there. Must belong to the guy I bought the car from."  
He looked at them, at me, then unfolded them and put them on. I shot him a glance, and had to look again.

„Yeah", I said. Small, round, black. I had to grin. „There's a mirror in the shade."  
He looked, tilted his head, and grinned as well. Seeing him, a thought brushed my mind. „You know", I said. „I think that you'd have less problems adjusting to a life here than I would have if what happened to you would happen to me."

He shot me a glance and grinned. „It always pays off to be adaptable to your surroundings, as to make your surroundings not only surround, but also fit you that you may fit into them."  
I blinked. He grinned.

„Is it diffucult?", he asked after a while.  
„What is difficult?"  
„To… steer this thing."  
"Drive a car? No", I said.  
„Can I try it?"  
I was about to reject this, then I thought that there were probably a lot of people on the roads in this country who knew as little about cars as he did. „Maybe. On the way back."

There's one thing about civilisation. Wherever you are in Britain, you are never more than one and half an hour's drive away from the next Tesco. I turned into the carpark, switched the engine off and turned to face Jack.  
„Okay", I said. „You will stay close to me, touch nothing, eat nothing, drink nothing, and in general do nothing except follow me? Clear?"  
„Savvy", he said with a grin before jumping out. I prayed it hadn't been a mistake.

x x x x x x x x

It turned out it was easier than I had thought. Overwhelmed by a superstore, he just stayed beside me, staring around him while I loaded the trolley. I managed to loose him in the vegetable aisle, but found him again where the tropical fruits were.

„I know these", he said.  
„Leave the pineapples alone", I said, feeling terrible overconscious under the stare of two elderly couples inspecting the bananas. He grinned and sauntered over. „This is amazing. And all this is for sale?"  
„Everything. And please, do not try to pinch anything. Do me the favour."  
„I'm all pure virtue", he said, flashing me an innocent, sweet, impish grin. I shook my head with a smile. „As always."

Having bought everything, I headed for the aisle with the alcoholic beverages. And there, Jack was indeed in for a unpleasant surprise. There was a group of teenage girls, dressed fashonably in not very much. I had never thought twice about that, but Jack obviously hadn't been prepared (for apparent reason). He stopped short and I only realised what he was seeing when I followed his stare.

„Jack", I murmured. „Stop staring."  
He blinked and composed himself, outwardly at least. Yet I could see he shot glances at them every other second. It was only when I stood closer to him I realised he wasn't upset, he was… what was he? Leering?

„Jack?"  
„These lasses are quite generous in showing what nature has bestowed them with", he whispered back, and I rolled my eyes. „Yes", I admitted. „It's summer. It's warm. No reason to die of a heatstroke."

He lifted one brow and looked again over his shoulder. The girls had realised he was staring at them and started giggling. One popped a chewing gum bubble. Jack hastily turned to me again. „They act like…"  
"Shut up", I said hastily. „Welcome to my world."

He was silent for a while, then he shook his head and murmured something under his breath.  
„What?"  
"I said", he repeated, „That the sooner I get down that gully again, the better."  
I wasn't quite sure that it really was what he said, but didn't question it. Instead, I tried to cheer him up a little with two bottles.

He looked, but of course, the labels would mean nothing to him.  
„Woods 100", I said. „Rum. Fine stuff."  
„Fine", he said, looking relieved as he was presented with something he could understand. „I'll take two as well."  
I looked at the bottles, at him, at the price, back at him, shuddered, and put four bottles into the trolley. „That's it."

We headed for the checkout, and of all people, the girls from the alcopop-faction queued up behind us. I loaded the stuff onto the band and packed it into the trolley again, all the while keeping an eye on Jack. He didn't do anything, but that he did very obviously. One of the girls finally lost her nerve.

„What are you staring at? Look elsewhere."  
Jack crossed his arms and flashed her a smile. „Isn't it a bit unfair, darling, to be so generous in showing what ye've got and then blaming people for looking?"  
She stared and even forgot her chewing gum. I snatched this perfect opportunity to grab Jack's arm and drag him away.

„What?", he complained on the way to the car. „It's nothing but the truth!"  
„It is", I said, loading the stuff into the boot. „You're right. And they are, too."  
He blinked slowly and I shrugged. „Don't ask me, mate", I said. „Just forget it."  
„Can't", he said simply and slumped into the seat. We drove back in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Insert standard disclaimer here.

Being unwise. Now, be honest, wouldn't you?

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Shortly before we reached the house I remembered what we had talked about before setting off and stopped the car. He looked up and I grinned.  
"Captain", I said. „The helm's yours."  
He lifted one eyebrow and I started explaining what was what.

„Okay", I sad, feeling a little funny as I sat down in the passenger seat. „Tread the clutch and turn the key." The engine came to life. „Let go. Fine." He concentrated on following my instructions.  
„First gear. Release Clutch and slowly press accelerator." The engine howled. „Less speed, more clutch." The car jumped. „Too much clutch."

Another try. Ignition key, clutch, accelerator, and sudenly, we were on the road again. Jack grinned like a madman. „Don't forget to gear up", I said, adding hastily to remember treading the clutch before doing so.

„This is almost as easy as steering a ship", he said after a while, and I had to grin. Loking at him, wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of black shades, you would never have thought what he really was. A little eccentric, maybe. But definitely with a certain style.

It was well after lunchtime when we were done carrying all the stuff in and stowing it away. I made myself another coffee and watched Jack dress into his own outfit again. He straightened up, realised that I was looking at him, and grinned, lifting his eyebrows.

„Shut your lovely mouth, luv. Am I that strapping to the eye?"  
I closed my mouth, unaware that it had been open. I had the nasty feeling of blushing. He smirked at me.

To hide my sudden feeling of embarassment, I went into the kitchen and fixed up some food. During the meal there was an uncomfortable silence, which maybe had to do with the fact that Jack had sincere troubles with his spaghetti. Okay, maybe it hadn't been fair to confront him with those, but I had the feeling of being in the need of revenge for that nasty little remark.

He prodded the contents of his plate as if expecting them to come alive on him any moment.  
"What are… those?"  
„Spagetthi. Pasta."  
„And what…"  
"Just… wheat and water. Like… like bread."  
„Bread." He shot me a glance and stared at his plate again. But eventually, he tried it and, finding out that they were edible, admitted they were not too bad.

I made myself another coffe after the meal and Jack agreed to try another one. I sat down next to him, and the afternoon passed with me telling stories. I wasn't very consistent, I remembered a bit here, a bit there, but he listened with fascination as I told him about technology, cars, trains, planes, electricity, phones, television. I wasn't too sure he could make much sense of what I was saying, but he was certainly interested.

After hours of talking, I suddenly realised that his face had come nearer and nearer to mine, and I slowly leaned back a little. Looking into his khol-lined, warm, brown eyes made me feel weirdly giddy, but I scolded myself again. _Last warning. Keep those hormones in check_.

He smiled, I smiled, then I got up apruptly and he stopped smiling. „Unwise", I said, and he tilted his head as if he had no idea whatsoever what I was talking about. „I saw it written in your face, Jack Sparrow, and I think it highly unwise."

Then I left to make some dinner, more to do something else out of his immediate presence than anything else. I was sure his gaze followed me out of the room. I was absolutely sure he was smirking.

During eating a plateful of sandwiches we were able to pretend nothing had happened, but after that, he leaned forward and smiled at me, almost apologetically. „It wasn't my intention to upset ye", he said.  
„Wasn't it?", I replied, leaning back.  
"No", he said with a smirk. „It was my intention to kiss ye, but that would've upset ye, so I didn't."

I raised one eyebrow. „Nice of you to leave some free will of descicion to me, mate."  
He chuckled and crossed his legs, folding his arms behind his neck. Smiling to myself, and shaking my head at the same time because I realised him kissing me was something that seemed surely a lot of things, but not upsetting. And that upset me.

_And why is that so? Been a while, after all. _

I smiled and opened one of the bottles of Woods. Then I thought better of it, got up and switched off the lights, leaving only the lamps on, flickering candles behind glass. I offered one bottle to Jack who took it with a gracious nod, and lifted my bottle into his direction.  
„Here's to the idiot who will ever believe that story", I said and he laughed. „You mean the two of us, luv?" I grinned and took a sip. „Propably the only ones."

He looked at his bottle, then at me. „Are ye attempting to make me drunk, luv?", he said with a lopsided grin and I chuckled. „Even if I tried, I sincerely doubt that when this evening is over, you'd be more drunk than me."  
He grinned, and tried the rum. He savoured the taste, then gave me a nod of approval. „That's fine stuff, that is", he said and took a generous swig.

We sat in silence for a while, making conversation with our bottles. I must admit I can hold a bottle well enough, never too sure if that's something to be proud or ashamed of. But I am definitely not used to drinking strong rum out of a bottle, so I took it easy and was halfway through mine when Jack dropped his, empty.

„There's no more at the moment, I'm afraid", I said. „When these bottles are gone, I have to buy more."  
He took another bottle and waved it like a trophy with a friendly grin into my direction. „Live the moment, lass", he said and opened it.

I have never seen a man drink that much in that short a time and still being able to talk so clearly. But of course, he wasn't just any man. He was Jack Sparrow. Captain.  
"I am a Captain indeed, what about it?", he said with a smirk an I realised I had spoken the last word out loud. He winked „Thinking about me, luv?"

„I was", I said and took another swig. I had realised that I was, as usual, of two minds, but was also determined of not letting this get in the way of having the time of my life. I leaned forward, and he stopped his movement and slowly let the bottle sink again. He turned his head and shifted a little to look at me.

Our faces came closer together and he smiled ever so slightly. I took another sip. „Jack", I said. „That's me name", he replied, leaning a little more forward.  
„Remember how you didn't want to upset me earlier?"  
„I do", he said with a strange, almost inviting smile. „Hope I don't do so now."  
„No", I said, feeling a smile spread on my face in return. „I thought it not wise but…"  
„But…?" He took a sip out of his bottle and watched with an amused smile as I put my bottle down.

I leaned a little forward and could feel his breath on my face. I was suddenly hot and cold all over. Still smiling, I rested one hand on his shoulder. „I feel decidedly unwise right now", I said and he slowly put his bottle down. „Do ye, now", he said, and kissed me.

No matter who he was, where from, in that moment he was only a man. And I only a woman. And I had very consciously drunk a lot with knowing what he was up to. And it was definitely worth it. He was a passionate kisser, and I was hungry for affection after such a long, drawn out split-up recently.

After a while we ended up with our hands under each other's clothing, breathing heavily, kissing wildly, when I admitted to myself it wouldn't end here. I broke away from the kiss and leaned back, toying with one of his dreadlocks.

„Come to bed with me", I whispered, and he smiled under half-closed lids.

„As ye wish", he murmured in a low voice and got up, but took a bottle, a new one, with him as we went. He drank some more, made me drink a little more, and we lay down on the bed.

It was definitely not wise.

But it was definitely good.

x x x x x x x x

We spent most of the morning in bed, talking and drinking coffee. Okay, at one point we were done with talking and were being… unwise again.  
But eventually, around lunchtime, we had to get up because we both were starving.

I drove us off to the coast after lunch, and we both sat down atop the rocky cliff and watched the atlantic ocean caressing the shore with it's endless waves. He sat behind me, his arms around me, and this time it was him who did the talking. He talked about the sea. The caribbean. About ships, and sailing.

I watched him as he talked and felt a growing certainty that the warm feeling wasn't going to hold. He had to leave. He had to get back. And when he fell silent and looked at me, I saw he was aware of that, too. Pretending it was yet far away, we kissed, but we both knew quite sooner than late, we'd have to say goodbye.

We came back late that evening, it wasn't completely dark yet long past dinnertime, and I thought about pizza when I heard my mobile ring. I had all forgotten about the thing and it was lying on the table. I picked it up and saw that Marc had tried to call me several times today. It was him, as well, who called now. With a sigh I answered.

„Hi Marc."  
„Fran. Where have you been all day? Forgotten your phone again?"  
I grimaced. „Yes, I've forgotten my phone. And I was at the coast, so it would've been of no use to me, anyway."  
„Okay… listen, love. Where are you know? I need to talk to you."  
Not that again. „I thought we were through with talking."

He sighed. „Franny…"  
"Don't call me that", I interrupted. „It sounds like granny and you know I hate it."  
"I'm sorry Frances", he said, sounding like a little boy foreced to apologize. I rolled my eyes.  
"Listen", he said. „I have to see you. Please. I come over. Where are you?"

I slowly looked up and looked at Jack who watched me with raised eyebrows. I had told him about Marc, about his proposal and how he had changed his mind later. You could say he wasn't really positively disposed to him to start with. When I mouthed ‚It's Marc' to him, he sneered in disgust.

„Marc, I don't think I have anything to say to you."  
"Don't be silly, Fran. Please. Just a talk?"  
"What about? I thought we were through. We've been through all that before, as well. I'm not in the mood to go through all that again."  
"Fran, please, listen to me."

"No you listen to me", I said. „I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want to see you."  
"Fran, stop acting like a pouting girl!", Marc said, and I was sure Jack had heard that. He took a step forward. „Tell him off!", he said.

„Who's that?", Marc asked.  
"That's Jack, I replied, trying to think of something to keep ahead of the argument that was brewing up.

„Gimme that thingie", Jack suddenly said and held out his hand. I was about to protest, then thought better of it. What better to get rid of him than this? I handed Jack my mobile, he looked at it and then held it to his ear, clearly copying what I had done.

"Marc", he said. I stood very close to him to listen. Silence. „Marc? Are ye still there, mate?"  
„Who are you?", he said after a while, his voice dark.  
„It's Jack", Jack said, beaming at nothing clearly imagining Marc standing before him.  
„Jack", Marc said darkly. „Are you one of those bloody scotsmen as well?"  
Jack stared at the mobile, then held it to his ear again. „No. I'm a pirate from the caribbean sea", he said, winking at me. I tried not to laugh.

„Right", Marc said. „And next you're telling me your full name's Captain Jack Sparrow."  
I bit my lip. My sides ached with the effort of trying not to laugh, and Jack grinned. „Are ye taking me in, mate?"  
„Who the bloddy hell are you?"  
„Jack", Jack said again. „And I assure you, Frances has better things to do than being arsed with lackwits such like yerself."

I could hear Marc grunt. „Manners by the bucketload, mate", he growled, and Jack interrupted him before he could say more. „Oh, I seem to be in good company. Frances has told ye she doesn't want to talk to ye."

Silence. After a couple of second, I could hear Marc snort. "Why don't you just go and bugger someone else?"  
„Why should I", Jack gave back. „Why don't you instead accept defeat? Frances has made it clear she doesn't want to have anything to do with ye, whelp. She's finished with ye."  
„And how do you know that, dickbrain?"  
„Because it happens to be me whom she's just started with", Jack said smugly, and I thought it wise to intervene here and took the phone from Jack.

"Marc", I said. „Give it up. Go find someone else."  
„Like that? Just like that?"  
„Just like that", I echoed. „We split up almost half a year ago. It's too late. Forget me."  
„Franny…"  
"Stop calling me that. Stop calling me at all", I said, hanging up on him. I switched the mobile off and threw it down onto the sofa.

„What a lackwit", remarked Jack.  
I shot him a look. „I was together with him for five years."  
Jack realised he had made a faux-pas and held out his hands. „Sorry, luv. Didn't mean to tell you you were a lackwit, as well."

I shook my head. „It doesn't matter anyway."  
Yet I felt strangely leaden. The earlier exhilaration was suddenly all gone, and I slumped down on the sofa and crossed my arms. Jack slowly sat down beside me.

„You haven't started something", I said. „Neither have I. This is neither a beginning of something nor the end. It's just… an interlude of some kind. You'll go, and I'll move on, and we'll both only remember we ended up in bed with each other after too much rum."

„Probably", he said with a smile. At least he was honest. „But live the moment, luv. Sometimes, worrying about past or future ruins both."  
I looked up into his dark and enticing eyes. „Make me forget both", I begged, and he kissed me and did just that.


	6. Chapter 6

Insert standard disclaimer here.

Accepting the inevitable. All things must come to an end, and some things rather sooner than later.

The song further down is "The River" By REM. You might want to listen to it while reading this chapter.

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I awoke the next morning with a strange feeling of desolation. The first thing I saw was Jack's face, half hidden under his arm, as he lay on his back beside me, still fast asleep.  
It was then, looking at him, that I knew what I had been doing, what we had been doing was wrong. It was not only unwise. It was not only a rather bad idea.  
It was just plain wrong.

I turned onto my back and stared at the ceiling. This was not only not going anywhere, it was decidedly going into the wrong direction. I shot him a glance again, he was still sleeping.  
I sighed. It was only for a few days, and I was beginning to feel possessive. And began to feel entirely too relaxed in his presence.

Before too long, I would be used to him and maybe even he to me, and yet all the while there was only one inevitable end to this story. He had to leave.  
I didn't want him to go. But I realised at the same time that I couldn't keep him. This was not his world, in every sense of the word. While he was capable of driving a landrover, eating spagetthi and otherwise passing as a completely normal, if slightly erratic and eccentric person, he didn't belong here. And sooner or later, the world he had left behind would start haunting him.

"Ye're thinking very unpleasant thoughts, luv."  
I turned my head and saw him look at me. With a shrug, I turned onto my side to face him.  
"I was", I said simply. "Care to go to the seaside?"  
He smiled at me in a way that suggested he was delighted by the idea as well as wondering what I was up to. We got up, dressed, and were out on our way without bothering with breakfast or coffee. That says a lot about my state of mind, I care to admit.

We got out of the car, and only then I realised I had driven to the precise spot where I had picked up Jack a few days before. He seemed to realise this as well and slowly turned around.  
"Want to get rid of me, luv?"  
I sighed. "Yes and no."

He turned and looked at the sea for a while, crossing his arms. I stepped beside him but didn't touch him, and he didn't look at me.  
"Ye know", he said after a while, "the sea here looks rather strange. Dangerous and wild, but at the same time leaden, dull and forbidding."  
I shrugged. "It's not the caribbean, Jack."  
"Don't ye think I don't know that?", he said with a slight smile, looking down at me. "D'ye think it's time for me to go, then?"

I swallowed. "Yes", I said after a while. "You don't belong here. You belong into the caribbean sea, with a deck under your feet, and the spokes in your hands, the wind in your hair. You don't belong here. There's no creaking of sails, no rocking of the waves. There's no code of honour or sense of duty any more. Not even for a pirate like you. You don't belong here."

He slowly turned and looked at me with what was almost a sad smile. "Frances, luv", he said. "I have to agree to everything ye've said. But why so soon? Why now?"  
I tried to ignore the burning in my guts as I answered. "Because, Jack, I don't want to be reduced into a gibbering, tearful heap of misery when you go."

"I see", he said with a chuckle and pulled me into an embrace. I didn't resist, but only because I knew that now, after having said that, there was no way back.  
"Listen, luv", he said. "I agree. I don't belong here. It was nice to have a nose around. I'd like to see some more, really, but I also know that time passes, and likely passes where I came from, as well. Why should time stop just because I stepped out?"

I looked up at him and he smiled. "Time, I think, doesn't even wait for Jack Sparrow. And so I will go back, as ye said. As I said. And I will go now."  
"Now?", I asked, and he shrugged, suddenly not smiling any more.  
"Now's as good as any time, don't ye think? No use in talking about it and then prolonging it until it is too late."

"You're right, of course", I said, and he smiled down at me and kissed me again, one last time, I knew, and I was already feeling tears burn in my throat.

When we broke the kiss, I had to sigh and leaned my head against his chest. "I'll miss you, Jack Sparrow. God, I'll miss you. Don't you ever forget me."  
He chuckled. "How could I? The only woman in my life who made me wear a skirt in her presence?"  
I had to laugh and mockingly pulled one strand of his beard. "But you did look hot in it."

He lifted one eyebrow and grinned. "I", he said pointedly, "Always look hot. Comes with being a pirate, and a Captain."  
"Sure", I said, and wiped my eyes. "Now get off before you really get me started."  
"There's just one thing", he said with a lopsided grin.  
"And what's that?", I asked.  
"I left me hat", he gave back. "In the cottage."

"Allright", I said and took out my keys. "Let's go and get it."  
"Frances, luv", he said, and I looked at him at the tone of his voice.  
"Yes?"  
"I'd thank ye if you could get it", he said, looking earnestly at me. "I'd like to sit here for a while, to think. If ye don't mind. I have... I have to make myself believe that this is, indeed, the way back."  
"What else should it be?", I asked and he shrugged.  
"It could be a way to go yet another three hundred years forward", he said and I swallowed.  
"I don't think so", I said. "But I get your point. I'll leave you alone for a bit."

"Thank ye, luv", he said with a grin, and I had to smile. He kised me again, lightly, and sat down on a rock.  
"It's allright. See ya in a bit." I smiled at him and then got into the landrover to drive back.

I had a look around in the cottage again, but there was nothing else left of him apart from the hat that was hanging on the back of a chair. I sighed, picked it up, ran my fingers along the edge and shook my head.

_Hey now, little speedyhead,  
the read on the speedmeter says  
you have to go to task in the city  
_

Tomorrow I would be back here, waking up alone, and absolutely knowing this had been a weird, but strangely pleasant dream. Still shaking my head, I went back outside and blinked. My eyes were burning again and I told me off for that. What's the point?

_Me, my thoughts are flower strewn  
ocean storm, bayberry moon.  
I have got to leave to find my way._

When I reached the coast again I first thought I had taken a wrong turning, but as I got out, I was sure I was at the right spot. Something hot stung like a needle in my gut.  
He was gone.  
"Jack?", I called, running towards the edge. "Jack!!"  
I looked down to see if he was maybe standing at the water's edge, but he wasn't there, either. I shook my head, not believing what was happening. He couldn't... he couldn't just...

_Where people drown and people serve.  
Don't be shy. Your just deserve  
Is only just light years to go._

"Jack!!" I screamed again, growing more and more frustrated, angry and afraid. Afraid? Well, maybe even afraid. I had wanted to say goodbye to him. To kiss him one last time... hadn't I done so already? Okay, one last, last time...

_Watch the road and memorize  
this life that pass before my eyes.  
Nothing is going my way._

And now he was gone. "Jack?" I turned and then saw something lying on the rock he had been sitting on. A white stone, as big as two fists.  
Swallowing, I went over, then moved the stone aside and had a closer look.

_The ocean is the river's goal,  
a need to leave the water knows  
We're closer now than light years to go.  
_

It was one of his dreadlocks, weighed down by the stone to prevent it from being blown away.

_I have got to find the river,  
bergamot and vetiver  
run through my head and fall away_.

I slowly sat down on the rock and ran the strand of hair through my fingers. He was gone. Utterly, truly and forever gone, without any goodbye. He was gone.  
Straightening up, I could see the upper rim of the gully and I got up and walked over. It was low tide, the gully was only half full, but of course, I could see nothing out of the usual.

_Leave the road and memorize  
this life that pass before my eyes.  
Nothing is going my way.  
_

Gone. And if it hadn't been for the dreadlock I still had in my hand, I could have thought I just had awoken from a dream. Had fallen asleep and was now awake again, and had never eaten spagetthi with a pirate and never kissed Jack Sparrow.

_There's no one left to take the lead,  
but I tell you and you can see  
we're closer now than light years to go._

_  
_I walked back to the rock and sat down, staring into the empty air, towards the horizon, fiddling with the dreadlock. I don't know how long I'd been sitting there, but at one point, I looked down at the strand of hair and wrapped it around my wrist.  
It took some serious twiddling, but I managed to tie a knot in it. Smiling faintly to myself, I got up again and slowly walked back to the car.

_Pick up here and chase the ride.  
The river empties to the tide.  
Fall into the ocean.  
_

A nice twist, I thought. He would've liked that. Someone wearing a strand of his hair as a bracelet.

_The river to the ocean goes,  
a fortune for the undertow.  
None of this is going my way._

_  
_As I sat down behind the wheel, however, my eyes fell on the passenger's seat. And there it still was. His hat. Jack Sparrow's precious hat. He had just left it behind.. and why?  
To spare me the tears?  
To save himself from the sight of my tears?

_There is nothing left to throw  
of Ginger, lemon, indigo,  
coriander stem and rose of hay._

I stared at the hat, but started the engine. A thought hit me at the very back of my head, and I shoved it aside as being silly, illogical, infeasible and just plain stupid. But it's these things that always get your immediate attention, no matter how strongly you try to ignore them. I shook my head again as I drove off, leaving the coast behind, trying to forget the last thought I had had. It was a stupid idea, and only wishful thinking on my side.

To make me come after him?

_Strength and courage overrides  
the privileged and weary eyes  
of river poet search naivete._

_  
_Don't be silly, Frances, I scolded myself. It's over.

_Pick up here and chase the ride.  
The river empties to the tide.  
All of this is coming your way._


End file.
